Page 11 of All I Want For Christmas Is An Alien
Ivekking don’t know how I’ll get out of here. These tunnels go on indefinitely without any clue as to how this stronghold is laid out. Sartogs would get lost down here, if Grudan had the vermin.
For a brief moment, I swear I hear my sholani calling to me, asking where I am.
I’ll be late for Christmas, my sweet Jade.
As long as you come home to me.That’s what she would say.
She’s counting on me to return for Christmas, a holiday I still don’t thoroughly understand, but it holds great meaning to her, and that’s what will push me until I hold her in my arms once more.
As I turn down the next corridor, stopping to listen for any sign of grud soldiers, that question that’s been niggling at me surfaces. Why did we put a treeinour home when we have dozens outside our home? That makes as much sense to me as why the Grud live underground when the world above is full of fresh air, plenty of clean water and healthy game. Even Grudan’sorbit provides them short days and long nights, plenty of darkness, if that’s their reason for retreating to the dank passages below.
Heavy footsteps approach. The walls radiate the same yellow glow as a grud’s eyes, providing barely enough light for me to navigate the passages without falling off a ledge or into a pit. I throw myself flush against a wall, waiting for the grud to pass.
“Serkanni vok griz!” a grud yells.
“Chi.”
“Jou.”
“Vertu.”
Many voices ring out, one after the next. A squad, searching for me. No doubt, they’ve found the dead guard in my cell.
My horns pitch forward and my claws extend, my only weapons. I’m ready and willing to fight, to kill anyone who tries to stop me.
The ground shakes. The sound of running soldiers quickly fades. They’re not running toward me, but in the opposite direction. They could be heading above ground.
Quietly, I enter the main tunnel as I follow the sound of the soldiers ahead.
The ground shakes again, rock and dirt raining down all around me. There’s no mistaking the effect of explosives. A new thread of hope rises in me. My crew is above ground and they’re fighting to reach me.
That doesn’t mean I can wait around for them to find me. The crew ofThe Relentlessis as loyal and talented as any group of Zyanthan warriors, but they’re vastly outnumbered.
I break into a jog, no longer concerned with a stealth approach. If I let the grud squad get too far ahead, I’ll lose my best chance of finding the path topside.
Another blast shakes the tunnels and I stumble. The echo of the soldiers suddenly stops. Three tunnels lay before me. I quickly charge down the middle tunnel, though I’m not sure it’s where I heard the echoes. I have no time for indecision. Any of those explosions could bring down these tunnels.
The explosions are occurring every three minutes, which leads me to believe they’re using timed charges. My crew knows basics about charges, nothing complicated like timing sequences. Explosives are my specialty, not theirs.
That’s not my crew up there.
If the Coalition is attacking, then I’m vekked. They’ll destroy every grud ship topside and I’ll be trapped on Grudan, likely buried alive down here.
As I emerge from the middle branch, I stop short as three grud face me, short swords drawn. I could turn back, but I need to get above, not hide deeper underground.
Another explosion rocks the cavern, giving me the distraction I need. I charge at the left-most grud. He swings his sword, which I duck as I kick the sword from the second grud while raking my claws down the first one’s face. Vekk, I’d aimed for his throat and missed.
The first grud recovers quickly with another swing while the second one stumbles to his feet and falters. I narrowly avoid being sliced in two by a sword.
In my peripheral vision, I see horns rise from the third grud. But grud don’t have horns, I reflect as I slam my fist into the second grud’s face and grab his sword. I raise the sword high against the third grud, but before I can bring it down on his head, he throws two knives, both sail past me and land in the first grud’s throat, beneath his chin. A vulnerable spot I didn’t know about. In seconds, the grud falls to the ground, dead.
“I thought you could use the help,” the third grud says, inZyanthan.
Those horns are zyanthan, but the male’s skin is green, not blue.
“It’s me, Havok. Jaizon.”
He plucks off a scale, a fake scale, and tosses it aside, showingme a hint of warrior tattoos beneath green paint. Then he tears off a very detailed mask that’s already ripped down the center where his horns broke through.
